Letters to Severus Snape
by Rinkinkirs
Summary: Severus didn't realise just how doomed he was before he signed his reply. AU, pre-slash.


**Notes:** One of the fics unearthed from an old WIP folder from early 2009. Note that the quality and writing style reflects this; little has been changed since, as I merely found it sad that nothing much was ever posted of my HP-obsessed years of fic writing. It was supposed to be a longer story - I'm guessing that's why it was never finished. It might be added to, it might not, but stands as complete on its own.

Don't mock the Chopin, I found it calming as a teenager. The locations described are purely fictional as far as I know.

* * *

**.**

The last night of October was dark, moist and filled with flashing lights and screaming.

A man faced a precarious decision. It could change the world as some knew it. It would change his irrevocably.

The choice itself was lying on a blanket in a flowery armchair, a drop of blood sliding down its forehead. He had tried sealing the cut several times, to no avail.

A past choice was bleeding on the Persian carpet: red hair fanned out from her beautiful face, wet and heavy, enhanced in colour by her own blood.

The sirens were too late.

**I**

A young man stood in front of the post box, holding a creamy envelope in one hand. He stood there for quite some time – only when someone shouted his name did he look up. With a sigh, he pushed the envelope through the gap and walked towards a group of teenagers further down the street. He waved, smiling – and turned his head, looking at the post box with a small frown.

It was done, he told himself. Now, there was nothing to do but wait.

His black topcoat flared in the wind as he joined his friends, and he gathered the folds around himself, shivering. It was looking to be a cold summer.

**II**

Severus looked at the envelope in his hands, once again turning it over to scrutinise the address, written with hurry in a messy hand. His gaze trailed over the letters, followed by his fingers. There was a curlicue at the top of the first letter of Severus, but the T in Tobias was straight as a ramrod and seemed displaced, _harsh_, in the otherwise curly script. Fitting, he thought, though he was probably projecting: Tobias Snape had been quite the ramrod.

Turning the letter around, he bit back a curse and almost dropped the envelope. Perhaps it wasn't too late to throw it in the fire yet?

_Harry James Potter_, the return address said. The handwriting was the same as on the front, but there was no curly capital S, which made him wonder for what reason someone would have of decorating a letter in that manner. Most people were rather egocentric, after all, curly letters in names included. And he was over-thinking things again...

He leaned back in his armchair and sighed. Letters were rare these days, with all the electronic communication devices on the market. He had rarely received any post but advertisements and bills in the past few years, and he was uncertain his curiosity could bear throwing it away now that it had caught his interest.

A finger inserted itself carefully at one edge of the fold, testing the glue. He rose from his seat and approached his writing table, picked up his letter knife from one of the drawers and sat down.

Disorderly but artistic black letters filled the page. The stationary was of good quality, and not one of those modern copies that only had printing, and on _one _side, at that. It had clearly been chosen by someone who appreciated proper stationery, which meant that it was unlikely to be Potter's mutt of a godfather in disguise harassing him again. It could have been a Christmas present for the whelp, for all he knew. He snorted self-depreciatively; there was no use over-thinking things, as he reminded himself repeatedly. He might as well read it, burn it, and go on with his life.

_Dear Professor Snape_, he read.

He blinked: and then, a scowl spread across his face. No one had called him _dear_ in his entire life. What gave a little whelp the right to?

_I was recently informed of your involvement in the attack on Godric's Hollow fifteen years ago, as well as my subsequent rescue, and would like to express my sincerest gratitude. (If you want someone to blame; Remus gave me your address.) As you might know, I live with Remus and Sirius, my godfather, who has nothing good to say about the fact that I'm writing you (though we all know how mature he is and prefer to ignore him when he acts up), but, especially since I am considering applying to Hogwarts, I figured that I should take the opportunity to contact you – not that I wouldn't have even if I weren't, mind you._

_I'd like to meet you if you can find the time. I usually spend Saturday afternoon in a little book café at the end of Harcourt Street. I've been told I have my father's hair and my mother's eyes, so I shouldn't be hard to recognise if you happen to be available._

_Thank you again,_

_Harry J. Potter_

He dropped the letter down on his desk and pinched the bridge of his nose, not quite sure how to react. It was written with the words of a teenager, but bore a surprising hint of maturity for anyone raised by Sirius Black. He could only hope the boy had been influenced by Lupin, loathe as he was to admit it, as he'd rather not waste a Sat-

Wait. Why should he care what the boy was like? He hadn't even decided whether to go or not. Why would he want to meet up with an immature adolescent boy when he could associate with other, more suitable company? (He didn't, but that was beside the point.)

_Gods be damned,_ he thought, _am I actually considering meeting the brat?_

He contemplated his thoughts for a few minutes, sifting through the words to approach the intent behind them, and came to the disturbing conclusion that he already had decided.

_Fine_, he snarled mentally. _I will go, I will receive his useless gestures of gratitude, and I will leave_.

No complications.

Or so he thought, at the time.

**III**

As he walked into the small book café at the corner of Harcourt Street, he was surprised by a rather up-scale façade and a design formed by smooth, sophisticated lines. The colours were calm and on the darker end of the scale for the most part, and Chopin spread from the speakers like a soft blanket, muffling the conversations taking place among the few members of clientèle.

In fact, he had to admit that he rather liked it.

An adolescent boy with black hair sprouting in all directions was facing the window by one of the walls, seemingly immersed in a ragged paperback, and Severus muttered something to himself about teenagers and respect for books. He was surprised when the boy looked up from his reading, and bright verdant eyes flicked to meet his.

Though he could see his resemblance to both Lily and James, he saw differences, too; the eyes were shaped differently from Lily's, though not by much, and his face was softer than his father's had ever been. The boy tilted his head to one side – something Severus faintly remembered as one of Lupin's habits – and smiled at him. He put a slip of paper inside his book to keep his place (Severus told himself he would have left immediately had he folded a corner of the page), rose from his seat, and approached him, looking him up and down with a little smile.

"You came," the boy said. "I'm glad." His teeth bit his lower lip, before he seemed to catch himself and his mouth returned to a nervous smile. He reached out a hand, looking quite awkward. "So… I'm Harry. Nice to meet you."

Living with the mutt hadn't prevented him from developing some manners, at least.

Severus shook his hand, slowly but firmly. Amusing how such small things could unnerve people.

"Severus Snape, as I'm sure you're aware," he answered, voice void of emotion as he scrutinised the young man again – all for show, of course. Severus was surprised by the strong grip, but what caused the thrill of amusement that rose in his stomach was the faint blush that rose on Harry's cheeks.

Well… That was interesting.

The boy was dressed like most modern teenagers – faded jeans and a yellow t-shirt that hugged his torso, yet looked decent enough. A surprisingly elegant black topcoat hung over his chair: it had been a chilly summer so far, so he wasn't surprised.

Harry shifted his feet, clenching and unclenching his hands. "Would you like to sit down for a bit? Have a cup of coffee, or tea?"

Severus inclined his head. "I suppose it wouldn't be too troublesome," he said.

He reconsidered his assessment when he felt a strange surge in his stomach as a grin spread across Harry's face, but still followed him over to the tattered paperback on the table, telling himself that he must have eaten something bad.

He glanced at the paperback as Harry picked it up; it was a weathered copy of _A Wizard of Earthsea_. There was a barcode sticker on the lower end of the spine, revealing it as a library book. Perhaps the brat was not as ignorant of book welfare as it seemed.

"We should probably move to one of the sofas," Harry said, glancing up at him, fingers twitching around the dark cover. "They're more comfortable."

Severus followed him over to a sofa group at the far end of the room, closer to the bar. He could hear noises from the kitchen, but they weren't loud enough to disturbing them. Harry sat in the sofa by the wall, while Severus sat down directly across from him. Harry put his paperback on the table, and began fiddling with the end of his sleeves, wrapping and unwrapping the fabric around his fingers.

"How did you recognise me?" Severus said, genuinely curious. A slight blush spread across Harry's face, but he looked up, apparently trying to seem nonchalant.

Severus had to swallow a chuckle. He was starting to wonder whether someone had put something in his tea back at Hogwarts; he was sure he hadn't felt even remotely amused just a few minutes ago, entering the café.

"I looked up Hogwarts's website," Harry said, folding his hands as one of his feet started to bounce up and down. Did the boy ever sit still? "There are pictures of all the teachers there. I figured… well, I should know how you looked before I met you."

Severus lifted an eyebrow.

"Did reality fulfil your expectations?" he said dryly.

Harry blushed, muttering something he couldn't quite catch.

"I beg your pardon?"

Harry looked up at him, an embarrassed smile on his face as he scratched the back of his head. Severus almost sneered; that gesture was far too familiar for comfort, and usually followed by something unpleasant.

"You look a lot better in person, actually," Harry said.

Severus would have blinked if he wasn't such a composed person.

He blinked.

Damn it.

"Oh?"

The brat was reddening more and more. Was looking like radishes fashionable this season?

"If I didn't know better, Mr Potter, I'd say you have a disconcerting fixation on my appearance."

That seemed to shake the boy out of whatever strange mood had come over him; he almost stood from his seat, gaping like a fish. Severus felt his mouth twitch. Harry sat down again, rolling his eyes as he put his elbows on his knees and leaned forward.

"Oh, dear, you caught me," he said in a monotone, before he snorted. "No, but seriously-"

"Do not use any words related to the mutt in my presence," Severus cut in, "if you would prefer to suffer it for a while longer."

Harry blinked.

"What, Sirius?"

"And he does it again," Severus said, gnashing his teeth.

"Oh," Harry muttered. "Well, sorry, I guess. Fine. But really, you look a lot better in reality. From your picture, I'd never guess that you were-"

He cut himself off, averting his eyes. Severus sighed – why did he decide to subject himself to one more awkward teenager than he already had to? He'd had enough of them when he _was_ one.

"Guess that I _what_, Mr Potter?" Severus said, wishing for annoyance, and yet, amused by Harry's squirming.

"That you," Harry hesitated. "Uh, never mind."

This time, Severus let a chuckle escape: a moment later, he decided Harry's startled expression was worth the minute sacrifice. "I believe the picture was taken more than a decade ago," Severus said. "It is only natural that my appearance has changed, however little."

Harry gaped.

"R-Really?" he said. "So you're one of the people that just look better and better, then? Uh, I mean…"

_No,_ Severus told himself, _my lips are not trying to smile. _

The boy had proved himself not to be an incarnation of his father. Had he not before he made a gesture so much like James Potter when he messed up his hair, Severus would have snarked at him, made him pay for his tea and prayed that he never saw him again. Never mind that "snarked" wasn't an actual word.

As things were…

Perhaps Harry Potter was decent company. He did have some measure of manners, after all.

And if he had given Harry his phone number, it was only because they didn't get around to discuss Hogwarts.

**IV**

"Hello there, Harry!" Sirius came bouncing down the hall until he reached his godson, upon which said godson was crushed in a strong embrace. He choked, pushing against Sirius's arms to break free.

"Sirius," he forced out. "You're choking me."

Sirius grinned and held his hands up in surrender. "No punishment for wayward godfathers, Harry. I already served it a hundred times over!"

Harry smiled.

"Seeing as you can joke about it, I doubt it was all that hard, Prince Charming." He took of his coat and hung it on the rack. "Any chance I could have some _intelligent_ company in this house?"

Harry flicked his hand at Sirius's nose, but Sirius dodged with a gleeful cackle.

Apart from Sirius's infernal noise, it was awfully silent. "Where's Remus?"

Sirius grin tightened. "Out," he said stiffly. "He went to the book store to look after that… chemistry book."

Harry blinked, taking in his godfather's less than pleased expression. Well, he wasn't going to ask.

"Okay, if you say so," Harry said. "Did you make dinner?"

Sirius grinned excitedly, and Harry had to suppress a groan.

"I made pancakes!" he said, jumping up and down. "Come on, you've got to taste them! They're green!"

This time, Harry couldn't suppress his groan.

After they had finished the (surprisingly) edible pancakes, Sirius started fiddling with his napkin. Harry glanced up at him, waiting for him to lose his patience. Sirius was horribly predictable, especially for those who knew him well and could recognise all the things he did when he was in a particular mood; right now he was twitchy, which meant that he was upset about something but reluctant to show it.

"So," Sirius voice finally broke the silence. "How did it go?"

Harry blinked, startled – it was very unlike his godfather to be so calm when he was upset. "What?"

"How did it go?" Twitchy fingers. Hmm. "Meeting Snivellius."

Harry frowned, glaring down at his folded hands. He made sure to count to five, then ten, then _fifteen_, just to keep his calm. (Sometimes, he wondered which of them was the teenager.)

"It was nice," he said calmly, though his voice was strained. Sirius seemed bewildered. He had obviously thought that after meeting the Professor, Harry would dislike him based on his personality alone. Harry felt a twinge of hurt that his godfather would believe him to be such a fickle person, but he was surprised at the fierce burst of anger in his chest when Sirius insulted Severus.

"But- but he's _Snivellius_!" Sirius sputtered, looking at Harry as if he had 'BONKERS' printed in large letters over his forehead.

Harry lifted an eyebrow. "And?"

Sirius shuddered, muttering something about eyebrow viruses and Snape that made little sense. It was only then Harry realised that lifting one eyebrow was something he'd seen Severus do, too, but he hardly had moratorium on eyebrow gestures. Harry sighed and muttered something about stupid godfathers that made Sirius scowl at him.

"Never mind," Harry said hurriedly. "You don't have to get along with him just because I do, but it'd be nice if you didn't have to insult him all the time. If you and Remus weren't obsessed with each other, I'd accuse you of pulling pigtails."

Sirius spluttered, and as Harry left the room, listening to the indignant squawking from the kitchen, he couldn't help but smile.

"Never change, Sirius," he muttered to himself.

Sirius might be a git sometimes, but he was Harry's git of a godfather – and he provided a whole lot of entertainment.

**V**

"_Would you like to come next Saturday, too?"_

Severus sighed. It was Saturday. It was Saturday, barely past noon, and he was horrendously bored. He had finished his cup of morning tea, his toast, even the _crossword_, which made him feel like an old spinster. There was going to be a documentary on old abbeys (or the ruins that were left) on the telly, but that was a few hours away, and he was incessantly, inconceivably _bored_.

He grumbled to himself as he turned off the lights and grabbed his car keys, but he still locked the door and drove away from the house, stomach twisting in anticipation.

Harry's smile made him forget all the reasons why he shouldn't go.

**VI**

Their meetings became something of a regular occurrence. The woman behind the counter (Lisa) had put up a "reserved" sign on their table every Saturday and Wednesday, knowing that the two of them would inevitably end up sitting there for a couple of hours in the afternoon, sometimes spilling over to the evening and into the night. The others had clearly caught onto the pattern, and made no move to disrupt it.

Severus had never gotten along so well with anyone, much less someone two decades his junior. He had no doubts it was related to the fact that he was their "evil" professor more often than not, or that they at least had heard of him from their friends; not to mention that he had never been very interested in any sort of friendship, in particular to people as young as his students.

Harry was different, though he dreaded considering what made him thus. All he knew was that when Harry handed him his cup of tea – green and unsweetened – their fingers brushed, and his heart beat too quickly for shame to set in.

**VII**

And then, one Saturday, they arrived at the café to find it dark and abandoned.

"Lisa's sick, apparently," Harry said, reading the piece of paper taped to the inside of the glass door. "They'll open in a couple of hours."

Severus looked disappointed.

"We could go somewhere else," Harry suggested. "I'm sure there's another café close by." It wouldn't be theirs, though.

"No," Severus said shortly, but before Harry's heart could sink, he added: "I don't live far from here."

Harry smiled at him, and thought Severus might be smiling back, in his own way.

**VIII**

Severus's house was very nice, Harry decided, even though it was a bit on the darker side. The furniture was a mishmash of modern and old: the armchairs were dark brown, green and (probably, hopefully) inherited flower patterns, the room accentuated by silver paraphernalia.

"Reminds me a bit of a vampire nest," Harry said.

Severus sent him a look.

"You do, too, for that matter."

"Why, you little…"

The world twirled around him, and Harry found himself face down on the leather sofa in front of the fireplace with a sullen chemistry professor sitting on top of him.

"You're heavy!"

"Which will serve to teach you a lesson, I'm sure."

Harry wriggled around a bit, trying to get loose, and managed to turn around. He glared up at Severus, sitting sideways on top of his stomach. Harry huffed, crossing his fingers as he held them up at him.

"Stay away from me, you cursed creature of the dark!"

Severus snorted. "I will not further degrade myself, thank you." He stood up, walking with even steps towards the kitchen, waiting for the inevitable to happen. "Now, dinner…"

As expected, he heard soft, rushed steps before Harry jumped onto his back, almost strangling him from the grip around his neck until Harry managed to get his feet around his waist.

He sighed. He really was too old for this.

"Thank you for offering to do the dishes," Severus said.

Harry spluttered.

Ah, Severus thought, the joys of revenge.

**IX**

_Dear Severus_

_How is school treating you? Tired of the imbecilic brats yet?_

_I'm certainly tired of school… Maths is being a bitch, as usual. I don't know why, but I've never gotten the hang of it. English is so much better, even though we're reading Of Mice and Men at the moment. It's not a bad book – I'm just not particularly fond of it._

_Thanks for the present. I barely stopped reading until I was finished. I'm not sure I'm present in reality quite yet, 'cause that just… really freaked me out._

_Your birthday is coming up soon, isn't it? We should do something. Meet up. If you're not too busy correcting exams, of course._

_Love,  
Harry_

**X**

Severus didn't realise just how doomed he was before he signed his reply –

_Love,  
Severus_

– and found that it was true.


End file.
